jakob

searching for a feeling

Ryan didn't really know what he was doing here. He didn't expect an instant reconnection, or even for Brendon to still be interested in him or want his friendship - friendship? Companionship? - but he was lucky that Brendon was merciful in that all he did was return pleasantries, stay friendly. Really it would be understandable if he'd just reverted to how they used to be; after all it's not like the connection they'd had, or had been so close to having, was so foolproof it would survive the distance and the split itself. Ryan had just... clung to it, he supposed, and he thought it was just him. He couldn't help looking a little grateful, relaxing with relief when Brendon smiled at him, didn't look particularly perturbed or bothered by his presence. There was a while there, the awkward stage between Seattle and actually getting comfortable with each other, where he'd walked on eggshells because he didn't know where he stood. Afraid of going back to that despite the progress they'd made, Ryan was sort of prepared for the worst, and now he could let all of that worry go.

Still - there was a chance that this was just a good beginning, and maybe Brendon's kindness was only extended through the exhileration of a fantastic show. So Ryan didn't take the steady, easygoing mood for granted just yet. I intend to. Ryan's gaze followed the bowtie tossed seemingly randomly, and wondered distantly, fondly, whether Brendon would grow out of that, the careless way he did some things. Either way. Ryan bookmarked the location of the accessory in his head, considering Brendon would probably forget in some twenty minutes despite whatever he was telling himself. Maybe I’ll even take it a bit further. I’m thinking: fully just- make out with Dallon onstage. Ryan's smile subsided without his permission, and he was glad Brendon was looking down rather than at the disappointed expression that crossed his face. He was practiced at hiding all of that, though, so he quickly fixed it, trying for 'vaguely amused' before Brendon glanced up again.

Have you met Dallon? You know Ian, but- Dallon, my- our bassist. Yeah, he knew Ian. Ryan hoped to high hell that Dallon wasn't... on the same page as Ian, as far as his relationship with Brendon went. It made no sense that Ryan was almost jealous, because they weren't and never had been exclusive, and they hadn't even seen each other in months, nothing was going on between them except for in the back of his head trapped in distant memories - but the 'my' that Brendon almost let slip cut into him somewhat. He wasn't sure if he was annoyed by it or sad, conflicted, but either way it wasn't something he was going to let slip to Brendon, because it would be one hundred percent unfair to make it out as if Brendon didn't have the freedom to do whatever he wanted just because Ryan was an overly sensitive ass. He chewed his lip for a second, internally calming down before responding. "No, I haven't, not yet." He's tall, though, from the looks of it. Brendon had a thing for that, Ryan remembered. Damn it. "He looked cool, though. He'd play along." Ryan's smile was a little stiff.

Remind me to reconnect with Jon. Everything’s so hectic, I hope we all get to hang out more. It sounded like some fake sorority girl speech but Ryan knew Brendon was genuine, and he agreed. To an extent. Maybe hanging out more would not be good for them - but he was kidding himself if he was trying to play it like his imagination wasn't already getting the best of him. He hadn't approached Brendon with anything specific in mind, nothing except for talking to him, but. His brain was certainly creative. And Brendon's current state of undress was not helping. "I'm sure he'll find you first. He's been gushing about both of you and your new music ever since the label told us we'd be on this tour together." Ryan carefully, wisely, made no mention of his initial reaction to learning that, one very opposite of Jon's enthusiastic one. He'd changed his opinion since then, but still - it wasn't helping anybody to out himself as a bitter old soul.

Like before, Ryan really hadn't been planning anything. He didn't have an ulterior motive here. But apparently Brendon's presence alone was enough to send him spiralling back to history and he was maybe sort of a little bit hitting on Brendon again, totally out of his control. Ryan would've regretted it - but Brendon wasn't showing any signs of total disgust or rejection yet, so. He supposed he was in the clear for the time being. I dunno, I was just trying not to jump to conclusions. So maybe he wasn't being rejected, but Ryan could tell he'd caught him off guard, still watching him intently while he looked back down and dusted himself off. "I'm predictable," he said gently, searching his profile and deciding that, yeah, this was the point of no return. He couldn't train his mouth to shut up before and here were the repercussions. Ryan braced himself for impact, because Brendon was sometimes the smarter one and knew when to cut him off first, and although he'd been astoundingly pleasant thus far, there was no reason for him to reject Ryan in a merciful way. After all, he'd come over sort of unwelcome, with barely any easing into this.

Honesty from Ryan appeared to still be appreciated, because when he told Brendon he missed him, he caught the little half-smile and met his gaze again, easy. He did catch the almost reluctance - Brendon was an open book when he wasn't too guarded - and felt an edge of unease, bracing himself a little more. I missed you too, Ry. We’ve got all tour now, though, s’awesome. Ry. He could've cried with relief, really. Brendon was still staying casual and maybe that was a hint for Ryan to return to surface-level where Brendon might be more comfortable, maybe this was the gentle let down, but. If he had to do that it'd truly fucking suck, so he stayed earnest, would rather be told outright to back off than assume he had to. Mostly, though, Brendon just looked suspicious of his advances, and Ryan sort of understood. Maybe he thought this was another scenario where Ryan had some warped state of mind, or he thought Ryan was still the type to search for an upper hand, but either way it was wrong- Ryan himself was pretty surprised at how quickly he'd fallen back into this vice. Wasn't his fault. Brendon left a legacy, truly.

After a moment Brendon stepped closer, and Ryan stayed in place, returning his other hand to his pocket and keeping them there withholdingly. It's not like they'd really grown up but after seeing Brendon's uplifted confidence onstage today - for the brief time he did - he'd somehow forgotten the height difference, and now he was slanted over him, a few scant inches he had to tilt his chin down to really regard him through. Not at all surprising. Ryan grinned. That confidence. He could already feel the swell in his chest, and really he wasn't intentionally letting his mind wander, it just... Luckily for you, I was getting changed anyway. Feel free to stay, I’ve done this in front of thousands. As if there was a magnetism keeping them both in balance while they stood parallel, when Brendon stepped away Ryan swayed a little, lifting his head again and watching him with interest. An invitation to stay? Sweet. The fear of rejection eased off and he felt a tiny rush of breath leave his lips, observing as Brendon started removing layers, all the way down to his shirt dropping to the floor. He looked leaner, clearly the effects of more drive, a more passionate stage presence - which before he'd thought was impossible.

Ryan didn't really believe him until his hands were on his belt and suddenly the weight of the situation was on him, fully realizing what was happening. Well. Not really. He had no fucking idea what they were doing, nor had he anticipated anything to happen if you'd asked him five minutes ago. Or leave. Up to you. For the first time Ryan hesitated, uncertain, gaze flickering between Brendon's face and where his hands rested before he was closing the gap again, removing his own hands from his pockets and replacing them at Brendon's waist. "I'd be pretty stupid to stay," he replied in a surprisingly level tone, considering he was already helping undo the clasp on Brendon's belt. Hey, even if nothing was going on here really, he may as well get Brendon into something more comfortable. "But I'd be even more stupid to leave." Belt undone, Ryan's hands travelled up to hold him close, aligning their bodies and angling his head down to Brendon again. "Hey, what you did up there, on stage... I'd be pretty interested to see how that'd look with me." Ryan honest to god didn't know where this was coming from. It's like he was having an out of body experience. Whatever the case may be, Ryan wrapped a hand around the back of his head incredibly gently, the other at his jaw, and searched his gaze for permission before trying to meet him in a tender kiss.

searching for a feeling

Ryan missed him. He missed a lot about the band - the fact that their following had accumulated so quickly and so strongly that they hardly had to do much to generate enthusiasm was one huge surprising change (and it appeared that love for the band came mostly because of the half that stayed with the original name; Ryan couldn't find nearly as many people interested in his and Jon's new work). But the sentimental stuff was worse, like how he'd been longterm best friends with everyone in that lineup. Even if he didn't get on with Brendon ninety percent of the time before their little episode, he was at least comfortable with him, had a familiar routine. With the new group he wasn't totally sure of himself or of them; of course it's not like he didn't trust them or like them, just. It wasn't the same. And he was pretty sure they weren't in it for the long haul, just to complete a tour and then call in a replacement. When it was Brendon, Spencer, Jon, and Ryan, no one dared to even call in sick - when their temperature read one-hundred degrees they'd stupidly risk it because, in their minds, no one could play like the originals. That was a distant idea now.

But anyway. More than he missed the thousands of things he had taken for granted during his time in that band, he missed Brendon - and, yes, this is the same Brendon he gave the cold shoulder to for over a year, the same Brendon that was about the only person he'd ever been in so many near-physical fistfights with, the same Brendon who learned to torment him right back rather than take the petty behavior silently. He was all of that, but he was also the Brendon that helped him get over the worst relationship in his life, the one who really had saved his band from failing, the one who stuck stubbornly on his mind constantly ever since Seattle. He missed Brendon's smile and his laugh that he'd only recently been given the privilege of seeing genuinely and frequently when the split happened. He missed seeing him work, probably the most passionate musician Ryan had ever seen (and Ryan knew Jon, who worked 24/7/365). He missed talking to him, like towards the end when he could hold real, full conversations with him, learn about his real personality that he'd snubbed when he was first replaced as frontman.

Seeing him again, suddenly Ryan couldn't remember why he'd reasoned that it would be a bad idea to reach out to him after the split. Really he knew he shouldn't be falling for it - on stage Brendon had this allure that would make anyone gravitate towards him, and Ryan could fool himself into thinking that all the old feelings he'd pushed aside in favor of moving on with his life were actually fully gone. But he'd never gotten over it, unsurprising by the lack of any closure to their weird, incomprehensible relationship. Bizarre. Typically Ryan didn't get super easily attached. Brendon's small, unreadable smile back at him in the mirror, though, brought him back, and suddenly he felt freshly twenty-one again, drunk off of various concentrations of alcohol and the prettiest boy in existence. It's not like he was in love, they weren't some fairytale romance, never had been. It's just. He had been borderline obsessed with the guy. Hard to pretend nothing ever happened there.

Hey. Even hearing his voice again, his offstage speaking voice, a little rough and tired from use, was grounding. Ryan switched from looking at their reflection to watching Brendon himself, searching his face for changes, finding a new calmness and surety that he wasn't certain had been there before. Thanks, man, you too. Ryan doubted it - maybe they were good, not to the same extent otherwise they'd be headlining their own tour, but he shrugged halfheartedly anyway as a silent thanks. I’ve been told that sometimes I’m too much, but. Good to know you approve. Ryan laughed lightly, and wondered whether he should mention that he could only stand seeing the stage show through for one song. He didn't approve, not quite. Ryan decided to keep that to himself - it was more embarrassing for him than it would be for Brendon. "Hey, 'too much' is what you do best. Stick with it." He smiled, charmed, and was glad he could get through saying that rather than freaking out on Brendon the way he had last time he'd caught him with Ian, but he hoped to God Brendon wouldn't actually take his advice. He'd be suffering this whole tour.

Yeah, I’m great, how are you? These were just pleasantries, but Ryan believed him, was actually glad that he was doing all right. He knew Brendon would thrive with the extended creative freedom, but there'd been a part of him worried that maybe adjusting would be difficult, or something. No such thing as not being able to adapt, in Brendon's case. "Fine," Ryan returned quietly, dropping his gaze to his feet somewhat timidly when his mind flashed back to Brendon's stage act without his permission. God. He wondered exactly how long that would be burned in his brain. Are we the only ones here? How come you stayed back? Ryan tilted his head curiously, wondering if he was playing ignorant intentionally. Of course Ryan stayed back for him, just for him. What else would he have stayed for? Everything else paled in importance compared to seeing him up close again. "I think we are. Spencer and Jon are apparently reconnecting." He smiled fondly at that, glad they were still evidently close as ever despite a common connection being cut.

"I stayed for you. Why else?" Ryan stepped closer, uncrossing his arms and shoving them in his pockets. He paused for a moment, wondering what his limits were, but Brendon had usually appreciated his honesty more than his attempts to save them from an awkward encounter in the past. "I didn't realize how much I missed you until I saw you again," he said carefully, earnest, and it might have sounded like a line if he didn't mean it mostly platonically. He missed their almost-romance, too, but more than that, he'd been warming up to their newfound friendship or what was close to that just before the split. The timing was pretty terrible. Less platonically, he chanced moving closer again, gaze drifting down to Brendon's open shirt for a second. Braving the nerves that told him he'd probably get rejected, that the stage show might not be an act and he was committed to one of his new band members, Ryan reached out, brushing a knuckle lightly over Brendon's exposed chest briefly. "And I guess I missed this too, but that's not all that surprising."

searching for a feeling

Ryan was more than a little angry with his label for organizing this stupid 'reunion tour.' He wasn't aware of the fact that his band's name was being tagged onto Brendon's headlining tour, just that he was going to be an accompanying band for some probably overrated main act, and now he couldn't even pretend that the band was shit. It was his, technically. He still got royalties to prove it. Ryan was notified only after agreeing to join a list of "associated musical groups," which, as it turned out, was barely associated soundwise and must have been orchestrated by some bastard who wanted to see him suffer around his old bandmates. All right - maybe that wasn't the case and it was someone well-meaning who really did think that he carried a hint of the old band's sound, or maybe they thought that tickets would sell more if the dramatically split band appeared to be 'reuniting,' but either way Ryan wasn't one to give the benefit of the doubt so easily.

As soon as he learned that what was now essentially Brendon's group was the headliner, he was fuming, trying to break the contract although he knew deep down that part of him was... excited, really, to see old friends. Spence, he'd barely spoken to since the split. Brendon he'd... honestly cut off completely. Not totally intentionally. It was just hard for them, still, to hold 'normal' and civil conversations, so texting back and forth was out of the question, and even if he tried to do that all he could do was wish that he was physically with Brendon. The issue in that was the fact that both of them were so tied to their individual careers that a potentially doomed relationship wasn't worth quitting over, and despite any sacrifices he could think of making in an effort to hold it together, Ryan figured they probably wouldn't last anyway. So he didn't reach out much, other than meager plans to try and reconnect, specifically formulated so that the chances they'd actually meet each other again were slim. See: 'hey, are you going to this Halloween party across the country? Oh, sucks, I'll see you next year.' Or, 'hey, where are you going to be on Christmas? Oh, in Japan? Cool, maybe another time.' And Brendon's tour dates were readily available online. Ryan did want to stay his friend, really, but the concept of actively doing friendshippy things was daunting.

Brendon was, of course, complicated from the start, so it made sense that they'd ended up that way. Spencer, though, was more of a question mark. Ryan had no idea why the band splitting meant that something was driven between them, too. Maybe Spencer had just grown sick of the new face he'd seen on his childhood best friend, the unfriendly one that lashed out at the one guy who genuinely saved their band. Or maybe he'd just picked sides and didn't want to seem disloyal to Brendon. Either way, Ryan was, again, not doing his part to keep up, wishing Spencer happy birthday and congrats on the new girlfriend and hey, listened to your new album, it's fantastic, but not asking anything deep or personal or invasive in the way only best friends could be. Ryan supposed Jon had sort of taken his place, though that sounded sort of juvenile. Realistically he knew if all four of them reconnected they'd naturally fall back into step in twenty minutes because it wasn't necessarily just irreconcilable personality differences that were to blame for the breakup (though with Ryan and Brendon it played a huged part), it was mainly the creative directions. They still got along, always did.

Anyway. It was the first night of the tour. Two other bands Ryan had barely even heard of before started off the set, playing short songs in short sets, more of a warm-up to Jon and Ryan's new band's actual opening, and Ryan swore in all of his time with his first band they'd never been so well-received. Then again, he'd never done something this coordinated before, at least not on this scale - maybe at festivals, but even then it wasn't great. He knew, really, that it was the big-name here they were excited for, and maybe the fact that two of his band's members used to be part of said big-name and that was apparently very juicy drama, but still. While he played their set, he could pretend it was the fun vacation-y twist to the sound and the turbulent instrumental that sent the crowd cheering, made people sing along with extra enthusiasm.

So far he'd only gotten to really say a passing 'hi' to the other bands, have some short conversations with their less busy members, but their headliner had been so swamped that he barely saw Brendon. Actually, all Ryan could fit in was a small nod and a probably too distant 'hey' while he'd been in conversation with a producer. Had he been brave he probably would've pulled him aside for proper conversation, but even seeing him - it hadn't even been that long but he looked different, more sure of himself, comfortable in his new lineup and clearly thriving. The band was taking on this new era, suits and bowties and suspenders and all, and Brendon just. So easily brought it to life. Honestly Ryan thought he'd be unaffected by their affair at this point, more driven to the hateful start of their relationship, but seeing him again he couldn't even remember his initial dislike, how it felt. It was like Seattle all over, just this time it was after the tiniest glimpse of him, and Ryan felt stupid, weak. Maybe it wasn't too late to fake his death and make Jon be frontman.

In any case, Ryan was forced to watch their set, too, and he'd wisely stayed away from viewing recordings and all of their live shows - which, he came to realize, he should have done this time, too. Brendon had always had a ridiculous little act on stage, terrorizing him or, if Ryan was being particularly stiff, Jon, but it had reached a whole new level, and his new guitarist and bassist fed into it. Ryan recognised Ian first and stood seeing him play in his place for a second until Brendon was in character, crossing the stage toward him, too close for Ryan to not feel a rush of mortification, the blood in his face. He turned away, strode dutifully away from sidestage and helped out all of the engineers during the entire set, even hid during intermission. This was... a lot. If this was going to be every night... Ryan really had to find a way to get over him, or some way to undo his entire goddamn contract. And there he'd been thinking there was nothing left to 'get over.' Fucking Brendon, really.

After the show, and all the closeouts and the encore and Brendon's loving goodbye to the crowd, Ryan was still dodging any and all interaction, carrying gear back and forth as if that was what he was compensated so generously for. People slowly disappeared as they finished their jobs, musicians filing out to find a place to stay or a place to haunt until they were ready to settle for the night, tour buses taking off from the back. Jon caught him once and must have known what was on his mind because he didn't say much - just that he'd be outside on the bus, he was meeting Spencer, so on. Some stragglers were still wandering around cleaning up or deconstructing the sets to make room for tomorrow's performances but Ryan gave in anyway, braving the journey to Brendon's band's makeshift dressing room and finding that, thank god, the bassist (he'd learned was Dallon) and Ian had gone elsewhere for the time being, Brendon the only one still around finally taking off the stage costume with the dumb bowtie hanging undone around his shoulders. Ryan knew the ritual - he was way too friendly, way too charming, everyone stopped him to chat with him whether they already knew him or not. Always one of the last out, 'cause he was the most valued person at any given show. Ryan was pretty fond of that about him.

For a moment he watched from a distance, Brendon looking in the mirror and undoing his shirt's buttons gracefully, which was odd because Ryan was pretty familiar with him getting undressed and he was always so hurried and it messed up the rhythm, made everything take longer. But he looked peaceful here, unwinding after a successful show, a weirdly private, intimate scene to be observing from this length away. Unwelcome impulses crossed Ryan's mind, like how he desperately wanted to kiss him back to smiling the way he had been on stage in the beginning when Ryan was still looking, maybe some things less innocuous definitely prompted by his ridiculous, unfairly precious costume. He shut his eyes tight for a second to recover, crossed his arms over his chest loosely, and approached, looking uncertain. "Hey," Ryan said to his reflection, standing a little ways behind him. Whoops. He hadn't thought this through at all. He'd been planning on complimenting them, because he'd heard the sets and he'd heard the cheers and obviously they were fantastic, but was a little afraid he'd sound... fake, after such a long time without real conversation. Ryan tried to convey his sincerity by softening his countenance, moving around until he was meeting Brendon's gaze, not letting his own drop to his chest. God forbid. "You guys sounded... just. Amazing. You killed it. Not to state the obvious." He half-smiled, familiar.

Ryan paused, a little awkwardly even though he felt somehow comfortable with Brendon again already, tightened his grip around his elbows. "You okay?" he asked into the quiet, and it was genuine - he'd been wondering, really, after everything, and then whatever might have happened between then and now. Clearly the band itself was doing fine, fantastic, but it was never a reliable reflection on how Brendon was as an individual.

seal it with a kiss

Ryan hadn't thought about how essentially having a new best friend would affect Brendon, not at all, good or bad. He didn't think it would even have an effect - it was his change, not Brendon's, because in his eyes she only really took up the time that Brendon wasn't around (and that wasn't to say Z was only around to take his place; they played their own separate roles in Ryan's life, and Z conveniently made time for him when he had a free schedule). Admittedly it was a little inconsiderate. Ryan knew Brendon arguably better than anyone and therefore probably could have guessed Brendon would take offense of some kind to someone else stepping in - or, well, maybe not offense, but he'd at least be hurt in a way - and it took him way too long to remember that, yes, he definitely had to reassure his sweet Aries boy that he still loved him most dearly and no one would ever come close to that and there was nothing he'd bring to Z that he wouldn't bring to Brendon first. Brendon had reason to be concerned, anyway, this wasn't just something childish or immature. He was gone a lot, didn't have any scope into what was going on while he was on tour.

Anyway, Brendon never mentioned it, never came close to openly complaining although Ryan caught glimpses of him looking vaguely insecure when Z was the one by his side penning new songs and toying with chords being his collaborator. It was a far cry from Ryan just playing with Jon; they'd all worked together at one point, and Z was completely new. It didn't change anything, though. Neither of them mentioned it because it wasn't something that needed to be 'worked on' - just a bit of a learning curve is all. They didn't work together publicly, rarely released joint songs or featured each other in tracks, but they sure as hell kept writing the love songs that played out their story in pretty words and modelled metaphors. From the perspective of someone like, say, Spencer or Jon, who'd witnessed it all coming together, it was probably a little cringey and played out. But Brendon and Ryan never got sick of it, clearly, or else they'd have run out of material already. Evidently, loads of dedication to one another was ground for endless creative energy.

Even after years, though, Ryan was still never prepared for his bountious amounts of compliments, and kind of lifted his chin to avoid looking flattery dead-on. Even if it is the law. There’s yet to be a day when I would be lying to say that you’re fucking astounding. Ryan grew quiet, leaning his jaw easily against Brendon's hand and shutting his eyes slowly. And then he moved away, because performing again was kind of freaking him out and nervous energy was getting the best of him. Again. He hadn't had that in years officially, but it came back in tiny waves, and Ryan was convinced he'd be stuck with the anxiety forever. He supposed it wasn't such a big deal. Even Brendon, the best stage presence he'd ever known, the most natural frontman to exist of all time, occasionally got it. Nothing to worry over... and yet he still sort of beat himself up about it all.

Ryan watched the proud smile take up Brendon's face, though, and suddenly it didn't seem so bad. He smiled right back, soft, and wondered for the millionth time how he was so lucky to find someone that could see the best in him. You’ve never disappointed me before. You never could. Ryan tilted his head to the side a bit, charmed, and studied Brendon, like he was the one who was going up on stage to please an audience of people tonight. Seemed they both held each other in way too high esteem. And everyone there, like, worships you, so. No worries. Ryan watched him bumble about awkwardly for a second before sighing inwardly, knowing exactly what was on his mind. "Yeah, yeah, sure they do," he murmured, although he supposed he kind of believed it. He'd seen Instagram. God knows why people continued to tag him in ten year old pictures when he did absolutely nothing with himself these days... well, close to it.

Brendon looked like he really didn't know how to hold himself without Ryan's arms securing him there, so Ryan came back to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and a hand around the back of his neck before walking him slowly to the couch again, leaning them against the back comfortably. "So," he said, maybe stalling a little bit, "any requests? Maybe Z will let me throw in another impromptu love song. Or maybe I'll just surprise you." He curled his fingers through his hair a few times, settling a few locks set astray by Brendon lying on the couch with the dogs moments before. "You could join me onstage, too. Little bit of a reunion." Maybe Z wouldn't be so open to that. Brendon was, in comparison to the other acts, huge. Actually, he was even without comparison. It was a little unbelievable. Despite Ryan's best wishes that he could play on equal grounds with his husband, they were sort of different worlds by now, so much so that Brendon may be something of a distraction to Z's show's original intent.

stay afloat || b&r

I can tell that was a sore spot for you, I’m sorry. Not something you want to be discussing with a potential roommate, I’m sure. Ryan paused and regard him more carefully, wondering exactly how transparent he must be. Well... this was his dad, they were talking about. Ryan couldn't conceal the hopelessness of that situation no matter how hard he tried. Given any other circumstance, he might be all right. For Brendon's sake, mostly, and maybe a little bit to defend his own pride, Ryan quickly replied, waving a dismissive hand just above the table. "No, it's fine," he said, perhaps too strongly, just bordering on argumentative, then looked slightly embarrassed. All right, maybe a lot of it was about defending his own pride, then. Ryan tried again, going for a softer tone, splaying his hand against the wood of the table in an effort to ground both of them, "It's okay. Also, you're less 'potential' and more 'surefire' by the second, trust me." That was proven in the way he smiled almost comfortingly at Brendon right after - he didn't bother with that kind of thing much anymore, didn't have the energy. Somehow, Brendon, like, deserved it, or something. His effect was hard to explain.

Ryan was catching on that Brendon kind of reflected his moods, but the downside to that was that Ryan liked to see him happy, and it was hard to coax that from himself. He watched, awed, while Brendon turned sheepish, timid when confronted by Ryan addressing his behavior. Apparently he was about as self aware as he seemed to be: not at all. It was precious. I- It does happen with some people. He looked so fucking genuine while spouting the habits of God that Ryan just tilted his head in fascination, less like Brendon was an oddity to be observed and more like he was wonderful and needed closer inspection. Really, both were true, but more the latter. Ryan honestly was considering just closing up the roommate search for business here; Brendon was bizarre, vague, and he still didn't know much about the guy at all, but for one thing he was desperate. For another, Brendon was this, so otherworldly and sweet and charming that Ryan didn't really give a fuck whether he was going to loot the place and run or not. If he was a murderer, all the better. He was smart for it, 'cause cute murderers always get away with it.

Anyway. Ryan probably would've preferred Brendon confessing that to thinking that maybe he would discriminate against something completely out of Ryan's control, something he was so used to being met with prejudice for that he was prepared to drop everything he'd previously liked about Brendon. Which sucked, but. Ryan was kind of used to disappointment, and this would probably pass in a couple hours. But Brendon just seemed, like... scared, shocked, or something, as if this had never happened to him, like he didn't even know what anything Ryan was saying meant. What was he, fucking Amish? Ryan had him pegged for pretty religious, not super life-consuming diehard religious. This was worse. But he couldn't be hateful, Ryan realized unfortunately midway through all of his accusations: Brendon looked so hurt that it must not have even occurred to him that any of this was bad in the first place. He'd been genuinely curious, Ryan just wasn't used to that.

In fact, Brendon was weirdly innocent in a way Ryan had no faint clue how to navigate, and after his little aggressive rant, he instantly felt awful. In case what he was seeing was wrong and his initial impulsive, self-defensive reaction had been right, though, Ryan stood his ground, staring up at Brendon as he stood and awaiting his response with carefully blank features. After a pause - Fruity? Ryan smirked cynically, wondering how he was going to survive in this city if he did end up staying. Listen, Ryan, I think you... Ryan's eyebrows were raised daringly, because as fucking horrible as he felt about it, like hell was he going to show that on his face. Everyone's a critic. Brendon's voice changed, though, and Ryan cracked a little, losing the challenge in his expression. I was just asking. Let me respond before you jump to conclusions. I’m not sure anymore I’m welcome, so if you want to show me the door.

Ryan stared at him for a few moments longer, still mean as ever, before his hackles dropped and he blinked at the floor, shaking his head. "Shit," he mumbled after a second, heart sinking lower. The one cool guy he'd ever met recently and he fucked it up that fast. Brendon seemed the forgiving type, though, so Ryan ignored his instinct to just let it go, give up what he'd already messed with too much. He looked back up, meeting Brendon's gaze. "You're right. I'm sorry- sit back down, please, I'm really sorry." He gestured to Brendon's chair pleadingly, then rubbed his eyes tiredly. " I'm sorry, I'm really used to people being assholes. I didn't want to..." Ryan paused, realising he was talking a little much for comfort. He studied Brendon for a moment before continuing, honest. "I didn't want to let you hurt me first. But you're a good guy. I shouldn't have jumped the gun like that."

Ryan pursed his lips for a beat then stood, placing a hand on Brendon's upper arm fleetingly, apologetically, before withdrawing and turning to the connected kitchen. Weird - that good-feeling, 'beautiful boy in my apartment' vibe had disappeared. Suppose that kind of disappears when you yell at said beautiful boy for doing absolutely nothing wrong, or when you blow your own mood to smithereens. "I may be broke, but I still have the stuff to make pretty awesome coffee. I'm making you some." It wasn't even a question. Ryan started brewing a pot, then stood between the kitchen and the table he'd been at, shoving his hands in his pockets almost awkwardly. It was silent for a moment, then he cleared his throat. "So you're not gay? Wow. Usually I'm the expert on that."

nothing friendly at all

Despite the fact that things were looking up, and he really shouldn't be thinking about negative things now, Ryan's mind occasionally drifted to apologies and excuses and memories of times he regretted his behavior even before his feelings towards Brendon had changed (maybe temporarily). He couldn't do any of that now, it'd just ruin the weird, mediating haze that appeared to have overtaken them, but could he ever, anyway? It's not like saying 'sorry I make your life miserable on a daily basis' would fix anything. Sorry I made your dream job into a nightmare half of the time. Sorry I never let you in, or accepted you, and in fact kept you out and excluded as much as possible; maybe Ryan wasn't a different person like he thought he was, maybe in a few hours they'd be exactly the same, but he wasn't going to forget this. He didn't want to. In a shared moment of weakness he'd seen a side of Brendon that made him wish, wish he'd just gotten over his damaged ego in the first place and realize that Brendon was a blessing to their cause.

He was a kid when it happened, really, so he wasn't graced with any sense of reason by the time he'd met Brendon. Nevertheless, that wasn't an excuse - he had plenty of time to turn around and undo the damage before it'd gotten this bad, he just. Didn't. It was easier that way, or so he thought. In this situation, though, Ryan was finding that the side of Brendon that'd always been unavailable to him was so charming and uplifting that this could have been so easy if only he'd given it that fighting chance. This visit alone, though unfamiliar and maybe a little unnatural feeling, was entirely comfortable, bodies fitting together as simply as their alcohol-tampered personalities had, two opposing forces finally finding an attraction rather than repelling. More than anything, if this did come to an end, he knew he would miss Brendon even when they were a few feet from one another. Now that he knew what was there that he'd rejected... yeah, no way he was willingly going back.

Of course I enjoyed it. Ryan grinned, triumphant, and bit his lip for a moment in an effort to get rid of his dumb way-too-pleased reactions. But I could give you some pointers. Ryan's sated smile switched fast to an expression of offense, screwing up his nose and throwing his hands out a bit at his sides. "Pointers? Really?" He hovered on an argument mentioning something about how he heard absolutely no complaints last night, but Brendon continued, and Ryan crossed his arms expectantly, half-smiling again already from amusement. Maybe next time I can show you... Okay, that was interesting. Ryan's fingers tapped on his bicep, shifting his weight to one side consideringly. "In that case..." He trailed off, raising his eyebrows innocuously, evidently close to cracking up. Ryan landed on agreeing, repeating after Brendon good-naturedly. "Next time." Hopefully said next time was soon. He was already having, like, withdrawals. Really.

He couldn't resist the kiss, didn't regret it when he felt Brendon's blunt nails faint against his hips, saw the glimmer in his eyes after he'd probably been too honest. Still- no regrets. Ryan was probably digging his own grave here, but. Anyway. Ryan looked at him sort of funny, sideways, because being antsy wasn't usually his thing, but he wore it so adorably. Ryan smiled at him in amusement before clambering away, stretching out all languid across the mess of sheets they'd made. Brendon was staring, intent, then looked actually surprised at his admission about Keltie. As if that was the wildest turn their relationship could have taken. Honestly, if she hadn't been cheating, that would've been more surprising. When he looked at Brendon he couldn't catch his gaze, instead caught with his profile once he deliberately glanced away. Ryan didn't think much of it, figured it was no big deal, and if it was then Ryan had definitely played the same or similar card. They had to ease into this, anyway. She’s crazy. Ryan smiled lazily, thinking that Brendon sounded like such a typical guy blaming any relationship problems on the girl being 'crazy,' but it was sort of accurate. In fairness, though - "So am I," Ryan mumbled, almost defending her by force of habit. "But you probably knew that."

Ryan's question hung in the air for a few moments and he had second thoughts, maybe they weren't really on the same page, maybe Ryan was unreasonably wistful, maybe he should take it back somehow, but then Brendon was moving. Ryan smiled against the back of his hand for a second, watching him come close, then let the hand fall back over his waist, hanging limply. When Brendon hovered near he sort of angled his chin towards him, like he was some magnetic force, absently running his knuckles in a line down Brendon's chest to his navel while Brendon smoothed along his side in turn. I... The distance in his voice was tangible. Ryan wondered what he was thinking, wished he could read his mind this way as easily as he could when they were angry and searching for weak points. He pursed his lips, awed, when Brendon lifted his hand, followed the lines of the map his veins drew, felt oddly appreciated. And this was so, so sickeningly close to holding hands. Ryan shut his eyes for a moment, willing away the dumb thoughts again. I wish.

Did he? Ryan was still torn on thinking maybe this was a joke, he was kidding himself; and even if it wasn't, Brendon probably wasn't as invested as he was turning out to be, just uncharacteristically sparing him the embarrassment by occasionally seeming to be on the same page. Whatever the case may be, he'd still said it in this voice that could only come across as if it held some note of truth, and Ryan's chest swelled again almost painfully. He fumbled with his fingers briefly before they settled, interlaced, between Brendon's, squeezing his hand gently and pulling their joined hands to his lips so he could kiss the back of Brendon's, light and quick. "Brendon," he said after a moment, slightly unnerved by how Brendon's name sounded coming from him now. Different. He sought out Brendon's gaze and held it carefully. "Thank you." He paused, and there was a lot to thank him for, but no words to communicate what. He had to look away, at the ceiling. "You could've told me to fuck off at any point, you know. Endless patience." He'd asked a whole lot of 'why are you here' and such, but never done that outright, so. And it sounded like a joke - but it wasn't, really, and thanking him for one thing was just a stand-in for everything else he'd like to acknowledge.

nothing friendly at all

But this is not that dream plays in Ryan's head, practically taunting him with the reality of their situation; their old stage show, the one he'd thought was so silly and never seemed to come across no matter how talented an actor Brendon was, and now it was scary to think about. It's not like he really had that dream, running across a sunflower field with clouds dancing across a crystal sky towards his lover, and there was no wind whipping through anyone's lavish locks, and no one was sharing a perfect, passionate kiss. And it's not like they were the flipside, the 'hard-sweaty-crazy-angry-monstrous fucking.' They were neither. It's just that they came so close to resembling the speech that it's almost like it'd been planned, like this was a joke played preying upon Ryan's dumb below-the-surface emotions, like this was Brendon's ultimate win over him. His cynicism was unfair but it came from a place of reason, really, considering who they were and what they were. What they were was not the dream, and what he wanted was probably embarrassingly close to it. He didn't want this to be a hookup, or even a recurring hookup. He wanted something more that he couldn't - or more like didn't want to - put a name to.

When they were cuddled close and sharing tiny, innocuous kisses, and all of Ryan's senses were overwhelmed with Brendon-only-Brendon - that faint sweet smell he seemed to carry naturally, the glow of his skin in the light and even without it, the even sound of his voice, the intoxicating taste of his skin velvety to the touch - it didn't seem like either of them were trying to win out over the other. It was like, for once, they were balanced out, on the same page or maybe just on the same chapter, and Ryan thought maybe he could trust him. With his feelings, with his heart, with everything, whatever, he could have anything. Again, maybe he was just vulnerable after such a rough past couple of days, maybe he was looking too hard for something different from what he'd experienced in the last year-long relationship he'd found himself trapped in. Honestly it was unfair to put Brendon in this position where he might feel like a rebound, god forbid, when he was anything but that - he'd been around longer tha Keltie, hell. He didn't mean for it to be like that, in all truthfulness, he just, apparently, couldn't control his impulses. Ryan blamed his alter ego drunk self.

It seemed like they were even getting better, like everything had already been undone. Of course that wasn't possible - but for the time being Ryan could pretend he'd never been responsible for the most antagonistic relationship in his life. Thank you, sweetheart. Like that. The sound of his voice, the 'sweetheart'; Ryan turned his head just slightly towards Brendon but was reluctant to show his face, really, knowing how clear-cut his emotions must be on his face. He suppressed his smile somewhat, pulling the covers closer over his shoulders. What’s with the blanket? Can’t get all shy on me now. ...so maybe shyness was a part of it. Ryan cringed inwardly, mood shifting fast. "I'm cold," he excused, because that was also a part of it, then halfheartedly whipped the tail of the comforter dragging behind him in Brendon's direction, playful. Almost. I’m sure you’ll survive, somehow. Ryan's laugh was under his breath, hidden in the same suppressed smile he'd been maintaining ever since he was called 'sweetheart.'

Does fucking your supposed arch nemesis while you’re still technically with your girlfriend count as a good deed? Ryan glanced back at him critically, noting the readjustment and unable to control the way his gaze momentarily swept over Brendon, considering. "Whoa," he returned in an affronted tone, arching an eyebrow. "So you didn't enjoy it?" He smirked, sideways, before turning his head back to the mugs, and once his expression was out of sight he let it drop somewhat. Brendon was kidding, he was half-sure of that, but it still was weighing on his conscious. Him and Keltie had established multiple times to one another that they were done, that this was bullshit, that they were wasting their time, Keltie saying any variation of these to Ryan more often than the other way round because he was just that difficult. But they still ended up with each other the next day, more begrudgingly hanging off the other as time went on. He knew, at least when he was sober, that no matter how many times they bickered and argued and tore the other apart, they were still supposed to be exclusive. After a moment, he cleared his throat quietly, let his voice soften. "But no, probably not."

The distraction of the show, thank god, served as an at least temporary distraction. He was looking back just in time as Brendon struggled to sit up, stifling a grin watching his brief display of misery. Not necessarily because he was suffering, just. Ryan was the cause of that. His ego was maybe slightly inflated at the moment. Brendon tried again and Ryan was graced with his extensive vocabulary, bursting out into the grin he'd been pushing aside. Whose fault is that, huh? Like, jesus, baby. You really had been thinking ‘bout that for a while. Something in Ryan's countenance changed, his chest sinking with the slow breath he released. He didn't think pet names had ever affected him so much before, but it turned out he'd just never heard them from Brendon - and that whole thing was basically a compliment, nevermind the fact that he had, yes, hit the nail on the head. Ryan exhaled, drawing his hand over his jaw in an effort to ground himself with a revisit to his tactile senses.

I’ve solved the mystery of Keltie staying with you, anyway. Funny, but Ryan was still stuck on the last words out of Brendon's mouth, so he studied Brendon for a second before picking up both their cups and returning to his side, setting them on the nightstand. He leaned over Brendon, held him beneath his shoulders until he was practically lifting him by his torso into a more genuine kiss, shutting his eyes and slowly sinking against him. After a few seconds he gently let Brendon rest back into his position before, remaining standing by the bedside. "I love when you call me that," he said finally, probably too open, shaking his head almost disbelievingly. "Anyway." Ryan climbed back onto the bed, landing horizontal on his back so he was staring at the ceiling, body perpendicular to Brendon's, legs overlapping oddly comfortably. "You're probably wrong. I think she was definitely seeing other people, so clearly I wasn't doing enough." He cracked up, fixing his gaze on the blank white above and surprised at even himself for being able to make a joke of the situation - well. Half joke.

For a while Ryan was quiet, thinking, and then he looked at Brendon, sure that offering up his thoughts when they weren't just vague details on his rampant imagination was probably still unwelcome despite all the recent changes. Nevertheless, he was also probably still a little drunk, so. Balanced out. "You think anyone would notice if we just never left this hotel room? I kinda prefer it here." He wasn't dumb, he knew they'd more likely than not end up driving each other crazy eventually, but right now it seemed so impossibly out of reach, such a distant unlikelihood that he didn't have to worry about it.

dance in the rain

Where's Brendon? Ryan had been wondering the same thing. He, Jon, and Spencer had crammed themselves into one of the cabin's little rooms, weirdly spatious without the fourth (and most noteworthy) band member. The goal was to actually make some music without getting too stoned first to either record it all or at least write down their progress, which, truthfully, happened far more often than not. They were absolutely productive - every day, without fail, they did something to further their own skills or add on to ideas for the album, but the issue was that they either didn't remember or couldn't quite recreate the success they had the first time around. So the solution was to bring out the pipes afterward, y'know, to preserve at least some of the work they used all their energy on. Anyway, that clearly brought out another issue: Brendon didn't really get out of bed unless weed was promised.

Spencer was the first awake, then Ryan, then Jon, all waking the other up, and Ryan could have sworn he'd tried already to get Brendon up. They started jotting down ideas without him under the assumption that he was just recalibrating to the waking world, but after an hour had passed, then an hour and a half, it was pretty obvious Brendon had fallen back asleep. And, yeah, maybe it was Ryan's job to try again with him, but Brendon was kind of his favorite and he deserved the rest if he really wanted it that bad, so when he was told by a stern Spencer to go wake him up, he instead sort of wandered around aimlessly to look like he'd gone to complete said task. Maybe that wasn't exactly helpful, 'cause it could make Brendon look worse in the process, but hey. When Ryan glanced in, he seemed so peaceful that it seemed wrong to make him get up - especially when he'd likely have no problem with immediately successfully performing whatever they came up with, when it came down to bringing everything together. Ryan was very familiar with their process, and typically, Brendon was the one who tied all the ends together.

"Umm," Ryan started, trying to look at least a little innocent, and Spencer studied him carefully while Jon was off in his own world, head tipped back with a notepad over his bass's neck. Clearly he had already guessed Ryan had mercy on Brendon. "Probably fell back asleep. He's always up 'til two, you know." Jon was more in tune to his surroundings than it seemed, chipping in a second later. Pretty sure it was four last night. Did someone give him coffee? Yeah, and though it was wisely decaf, Ryan had for sure put too much sugary bullshit into it. Brendon had some sort of puppydog eyes superpower that made people want to give him the world, though, so Ryan wasn't taking the blame for this one. "Don't think so. I'll wake him." He was already shoving aside all of the papers strewn about around him and the guitar from his lap while Spencer made one last slightly annoyed comment - make sure he gets up this time - and Ryan rolled his neck back, a nonverbal 'yeah, yeah.' So he definitely wasn't gonna get away with letting Brendon sleep past noon.

Despite that, Ryan wasted time as much as possible getting to him, trailing aside to the kitchen and grabbing him a water bottle from the fridge and an apple from the counter - no, wait, a muffin, right. He got to Brendon's room and hovered in the doorway, watching the light stream in and dust floating amongst it, then Brendon asleep, clearly having overheated during the night considering his blankets were all kicked away. Ryan pursed his lips, a weight on his chest he couldn't quite discern, before approaching slowly. "Brendon," he whispered, meticulous in keeping his voice as nondisruptive as possible, but that probably wouldn't do him very well with the whole 'waking up' thing. He tried again, crouching beside the bed and placing the water bottle on Brendon's nightstand, resting his newly free hand over Brendon's temple gently. "Bren, hey, wake up. Check it out, I got you breakfast." Ryan held the muffin up in front of his face, smiling warmly. "We gotta practice. If you don't wake up, Spencer's gonna come in here." If nothing else, that was scary enough to get him going.

nothing friendly at all

Ryan's efforts to ease the tension raised by his 'favorite person' joking seemed to be met well, but it didn't mean he was taking Brendon any less seriously. Maybe it was Seattle itself that opened a new realm of possibilities to them. Although his initial drive to get to Brendon had, in fact, started in New York, it'd only been fond feelings once he'd crossed the country officially rather than the typical output of aggression he'd grown so accustomed to with regards to Brendon. When he got here, somehow there was less and less to hate, and everything he'd once disliked was turned on its head into some positive thing about Brendon. All of his initial 'sagely advice,' for example, would've just been dismissed as him being a smartass before, or something to that tune, Brendon being condescending as usual (not usual, really, just something between the two of them, predictably). Now Ryan had received it semi-gracefully, actually glad to hear someone's honest outside perspective on his relationship that had since, finally, gotten the plug pulled. Time of death: way too late.

As confusing as it was and incomprehensible as it'd always be, though, Ryan tried not to question it too much. At the moment he felt happier with Brendon than he had in the last six months with his girlfriend - ex-girlfriend. Nevermind the part where there was no rhyme or reason behind all of this - he may as well enjoy the solace while it lasted, because with their history and his luck, it'd probably find some way to get ruined. Not that that was exactly on the forefront of his mind while he was staring at a Brendon bathed in sunlight and waiting for a breakfast feast. You know what, that’s understandable. Ryan's own smile had been going off, unsure of itself, but Brendon lit up again and he did too, some swell of relief in his chest over the fact that Brendon hadn't just kept up the fight as they were wont to do. Thank my mom, I guess. Weird to allude to his mom while they were still lying fairly naked next to one another after a not-quite-hookup, but sure. Ryan supposed he'd already heard those words in an interview before, anyway. Either way, he laughed in sort of bewilderment, charmed by how characteristically weird Brendon was.

To keep that sort of gift around he'd have to work, not take this for granted, which he really, really wasn't used to. Ryan had sort of grown into his lifestyle, now, and even though he was, for the most part, humble - if you asked anyone aside from Brendon, and maybe Spencer who love-hated him in the way only best friends can - he didn't take well to things not coming easily anymore. It really hadn't started out that way, if he remembered correctly, if all the memories of a shitty childhood were intact. So maybe Brendon was dumbing him down to his roots already. Ryan caught himself thinking about boyfriends and potential and dumb, destructive things, so he promptly shut off his mind, instead opting to gaze down at Brendon as he'd peacefully been doing before his brain went into overdrive.

Unfortunately despite his efforts to keep them strictly not that far he was already making promises to make it up to Brendon, and he watched Brendon's face change to an expression of thoughtfulness blissfully unaware of what he was getting himself into all because he was so goddamn pretty. What did it matter that completely changing their dynamic so suddenly without any real measures beforehand to ease into it could potentially tear up their careers, or at least one of them? Thing is, it didn't, and actually didn't even occur to Ryan while everything seemed so perfect staring down at someone he'd overlooked for so, so long. The pause after his question was almost nerve-wracking, but not quite, because Brendon could probably ask him to commit a crime and he'd up and do it under the circumstances. Especially when his hand was sliding up into his hair, fitting comfortably there and guiding Ryan into a kiss, vaguely biting and only serving to keep Ryan chasing for more. Brendon fell back against the cushions and Ryan's muscles gave in a little, leaning in closer to him to keep the distance as small as possible.

Brendon's arms fell away but Ryan kept his hands confidently around Brendon, bracketing his waist, secure. That’s a tricky one. Regardless, Ryan had already busied himself with giving Brendon tiny, lazy kisses on his cheek, apparently impatient, until Brendon was lifting his arm to fend off the light and he had to pull back a couple inches, affronted. His gaze followed Brendon's gesture, and before he'd even started to speak, Ryan's eyes were rolling knowingly. First of all, close the blinds? I’ll think better without a headache. "Sure," Ryan mumbled, pressing his forehead against Brendon's chest and recuperating before he finally rolled off and away, pulling a comforter from their pile of various blankets to wrap around himself as he stood. It hung over his shoulders while he reached the window, studying their view momentarily before actually tugging on the blinds, letting them clatter shut. "But it made you look so pretty. I'm almost grieving." For good measure, Ryan tugged the curtains closed, too, because Brendon could make endless complaints.

He registered his aching muscles and almost gave in, collapsed back onto bed, before coming to terms with the fact that they'd get better if he walked it off at least a little. He hovered around the room with his comforter-shawl, feeling utterly silly but not really caring, and landed at the minibar across the bed - already cleaned out of all the shots. Above, he switched on a cheap electric kettle, prepared to ask Brendon if he'd like coffee - but he already knew Brendon didn't drink the stuff. His better judgment told him he probably shouldn't be giving him sugar, either, but he started on a cup of cocoa regardless, pouring himself out a packet of instant coffee. "I'm making you hot chocolate. We should just start a list of my good deeds." Ryan turned and leaned against the counter, facing Brendon while he poured hot water into their little paper hotel cups. "Remember we've got a show coming up? Are you gonna be able to, with, uh -" Ryan paused, gestured vaguely. "Your ass? Every step is hell, over here. You might die." He looked incredibly sympathetic.

riches all around

Oh, please. Ryan watched, fascinated, as his countenance changed, looking sweeter by the second. Maybe Ryan had, like, been drunk when he got here already and that's why he was so obsessed this fast. It was ridiculous. Anyway - Brendon was, coincidentally, forgetting that Ryan 'played straight' and got away with it about half of his life. It was a funny joke they were entertaining, but really he knew how to carry himself on red carpets, in front of cameras, when talking to interviewers - if he wanted to. These days he'd begun caring less and less, because the more comfortable he got with the idea of having an image any less than perfect (which he'd sort of fulfilled, what with the 'innocent young man haunted by a troubled past trying to save the world' schtick he'd carried around thus far), the more he let go of the firm leash he had on his behaviors and habits. But, yeah, Brendon was right. Looking at him now, he could never pass for anything other than one-hundred-percent flaming. Let’s be realistic. Ryan rolled his eyes good-naturedly, prepared to argue more on the subject until he was stuck staring at Brendon's hair having a life of his own, livening his already vibrant appearance.

Brendon was right, even if he hadn't voiced his understanding of the situation; not much in Ryan's life went under the radar anymore. Truly, he hadn't had a date where he could sit down and maintain comfortable conversation without the flash of a camera interrupting since at least his first album. In fact, he was pretty sure the hairs standing on the back of his neck a couple of times here were because he'd already attracted attention inside the bar, and if that was the case, well. He needed to figure out a way to protect Brendon from that uproar. The place was seedy, though, and the lighting was questionable in spots, so maybe that was their saving grace: people not actually knowing of him or just outright not being able to see clearly from a distance. Aside from that, things could get much, much worse. He'd moved a few times and still couldn't escape the fact that people kept hunting down his address, usually with good intentions but sometimes just going overboard. People at meet and greets, who were literally face to face with him, forgot boundaries entirely, giving him kisses or otherwise coming way too close without asking, trying to have him sign the most bizarre things or write messages he wasn't comfortable with, so on. He'd lost his personhood, apparently.

And he wasn't even a massive star. He was big, sure, A-lister and everything, but he got off easy with all the bullshit that happened to him. He couldn't imagine progressing further in his career and watching it all get worse. In part, he was glad Brendon didn't press about it, not because he was averse to talking about everything but because he really, really didn't want to scare Brendon off with all of these horror stories. He wasn't stupid, clearly, maybe he understood what he'd be getting into anyway... but Ryan was getting ahead of himself, thinking about all of this. They weren't necessarily even starting anything. He'd bought a guy a drink out of the blue, that was it, no promises made, expectations set low, low, low in case he was hit with a rejection. Lucky for him, despite being, like, otherworldly beautiful, Brendon was probably the friendliest, most charming person Ryan had met in a long time. Usually if you had one of those blessings you were running low on the other, but nope; Brendon could both be stunning and the exact opposite of an asshole to Ryan.

As a matter of fact, because he had no filter, Ryan was pretty close to addressing how perfect he was out loud. It was definitely weird, sure, but when it was a compliment, who cared? The stakes were high here, though, because even if they didn't somehow settle on going to one or the other's place tonight (not likely - seemed like neither of them were the type to do that), Ryan wanted to keep contact somehow. Didn't matter how they were involved. Hell, if they were just friends, he was fine with it; whatever the case may be, Brendon still eased the weight off his shoulders and made his mind slow and narrow down, was such a bizarrely calming presence that Ryan knew he'd misse him when he was gone. And maybe that was the first impression talking, blowing everything out of proportion, but... he didn't think so. Brendon didn't seem to totally hate him, thankfully enough. After all, he wouldn't have cared so much about Ryan's reaction to his little slip-up if he hadn't already invested something in this, too. His embarrassment was adorable, but really, Ryan appreciated the honesty.

Are we? Ryan studied him for a second, wondering why he looked like he was very subtly freaking out. Well- Ryan was used to people looking like that around him, but the effect had been splotchy on Brendon up until now, who seemed pretty tame about the circumstances. He supposed maybe he'd been too forward. Whatever- as long as everything was out in the open, on the table and plain to see. As for 'were they,' Ryan hesitated; was clarifying out of the question? He could go the overly confident route and claim, without knowing, that Brendon really was with the same mindset as him, and that could be potentially mortifying. Because what Brendon most likely didn't know was that Ryan was already sort of daydreaming about kissing him, the best way to naturally go about it here, how he'd fit him into his everyday life once they were both out of here, how he imagined that everyday life to be. All right, all of that considered, maybe they weren't one hundred percent on the same page because Ryan was a theatrical motherfucker, but still, the future looked bright. "'kay, I might be a few chapters ahead, but that's just 'cause I like you." Ryan smiled easily when he took his hand away, figuring fuck it if that was too forward, at least it was out there.

The 'blank canvas' image he presented was one hundred percent from this life, again - he had to grow up fast to cope with the very quickly changing world around him, but it was hard to know how to look. In the beginning it worked that he looked so youthful (was so youthful), because that was his fanbase anyway. One fault with his career, though, was that people grew up and moved on with their lives, but he had to maintain a certain image and appeal to ensure his music wasn't so radically different that it became hard to follow. That became what he knew, staying the same, and it translated to his real life outside of professional as well - he dressed the same as he did in high school, basically, except a) now he could afford the stuff he looked on at with admiration in shops as a teenager and b) he wasn't 'emo' anymore. So there were less bulk packs of plain V-necks and more vintage, thrifted or thrifted-looking things. And because there'd never been any indication that he had to or any push from his producer to look different or age himself, he never really did; just kept clean-shaven and long-haired and forever young.

So he had to fix that. What a perfect opportunity. It’d take more than me, darlin’, I’m sorry to say. Ryan relaxed if only to regard him more fondly, a tiny amused smile playing on his lips. He had no idea how serious Ryan was, clearly. And here Ryan sat, totally thinking about setting him up with a team for him to boss around, supplying him with everything he needed, taking him around the world with him free of charge... obviously Ryan knew little about him, but a gut feeling told him he just deserved it, that he needed this - and if not this specifically, then it was a step closer to whatever was better. When Ryan just lightly grazed Brendon's chin he lifted it promptly, obedient, and Ryan was almost impressed before being distracted by the brush of his fingers over his knee. It would be so damn easy to just, like, hold his hand. Ryan distantly wished he knew how to read palms or how to pretend to just to get away with that. I’ll style it for you initially, I don’t think you’re too helpless to style your own hair every morning. Despite him looking down Ryan kept searching for his gaze, smiling without realizing it. Brendon already knew him too well. Takes five minutes, tops. Maybe.

Though Brendon thought himself the impulsive one, Ryan was definitely coming for his branding, because in the next moment he was letting his hand drop from Brendon's jaw to cover the one Brendon held over his knee. Probably too comfortably for how long they'd known each other, Ryan gently took hold for a few moments, running his thumb over the back of Brendon's hand at a serene pace while he shrugged and continued on. "If that's what it takes to keep you around..." Ryan laughed, short and soft, mostly to punctuate than anything else, then released Brendon's hand to go back to holding his whiskey. He drank momentarily, considering, before looking carefully back at Brendon, his expression thoughtful. "This is weird, but I feel like I've known you forever. Really." He stared into his drink for a few seconds before glancing back up. "You know, I was serious about all of that. Most musicians have stylists or makeup artists following them on tour if they aren't hiring locally at every stop. I'm just saying, whatever you make now, I'd double it. At least."